sherlocks new friend
by BreathSlowAndHeavy
Summary: Sherlock finds a young child on the doorstep of 221B Baker street. For once John is smarter than him.   rated M for obvious Johnlock reasons
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock was sat in the kitchen, staring down the lenses at some form of poison that the lab couldn't identify. He was talking to john, explaining everything as he went along. John was at work. It wasn't a day any different from another. John had woken up, Sherlock had fallen asleep on the sofa (refusing himself to sleep), breakfast was small and quick, they had exchanged small conversation, but nothing was out of the ordinary. Even for people who weren't living the lives of John and Sherlock. The only thing that was different was the paper that hadn't turned up. Sherlock sat there, quickly losing interest in what he was doing, he'd worked it out within the first 5 minutes but was entertaining himself. He was half tempted to text John to come back from work, but he had called him out enough this week. John would lose his job if he left again. Sherlock didn't want the arguments that it would cause if he did lose his job.

A heavy sigh was heard caused by Sherlock, he'd lost all interest in the microscopic image in front of his eyes. He called out for John but he didn't reply. Sherlock panicked, wondering where John could have gone. After all, he was just talking to him. He left his stool quickly, his dressing gown flowing behind him as he ran around the apartment, head poking through the door of every room followed by a loud

"John?"

John never replied. Sherlock checked the calendar. It was a weekday, John was at work. Sherlock made a mental note to keep track of the days so he knew when John wasn't around. He realised he should probably pay more attention to his flat mate then he did. He did owe him a lot after all. Sherlock sat down on the sofa, spreading his arms out along the top and resting his head back against it. He let his eyes fall shut for a while, he hadn't slept in days. Sherlocks thoughts wandered off to nothing but John. He thought of how he had studied his behaviour and learnt everything about him in one day of them living together. Yet there was always something new to learn about John, Sherlock found. His fingers twitched, playing with themselves at the corners of the sofa. Long arms reached the length of it. Sherlock placed his feet on the coffee table; a luxury he could only have when John wasn't around. Which wasn't very often for Sherlock, he rarely realised John had left his side. He flexed his toes and relaxed completely into the sofa. Sherlock started to drift away listening to the ticking of the only working clock (he had destroyed many of the others in the name of science), his breathing slowing down with his heart beat, slowly falling asleep. Everything was calm in 221B.

That was until Sherlock was awoken by 3 sharp knocks on the door. His eyes flew open, yet he didn't move. Started to work out who it could be. It couldn't be John, he had a key, too quick to be a friend, not that he had any, a case would have used the bell. This was a stranger, it wasn't a door-to-door salesman, they would have used both the bell and knocking. He sat himself up in a child like manner, throwing his hands against the sofa and pushing himself up. Three more sharp knocks. Sherlock turned his head towards to door and started walking. It was intriguing, someone wanted his attention. It couldn't be an enemy, they would make more of an entrance, an impression. He walked down the stairs, although the walk was more of a run, his bare feet feeling the cold of the wooden stairs. Sherlock ignored this and carried on anyway. Whoever it was couldn't be important enough to get dressed for. He was in more than a sheet, and that was more than royalty got for him. He'd only ever dress if John asked him. Sherlock made his way to the door, Johns gun in hand. You could never be too careful. He opened the door, the cold air hit him causing a chill to run down his spine. He looked around, expecting some man in a suit, yet there was no one in immediate view. Maybe a childish prank he thought to himself, ducking his head outside, not wanting to brave the cold fully, he looked left and right down the street yet it was empty. No kids running away. Shaking his head, thinking he may have imagined it in his half asleep state, he started to close the door. Yet he stopped when he heard a cry from below him at his feet. Pausing, with the door open a crack, he listened. There it was again. A cry, not a loud one, but a child's cry none the less. He opened the door taking himself fully out this time. There was nothing, or rather, no child around. Until he felt one of his feet land on something that wasn't concrete. He stopped applying pressure at the slightest difference in material. Even Sherlock Holmes could never harm a child.

He looked day, and was mesmerised by what he saw. A young child, no older than a year was wrapped up in nothing more than blankets, slowly waking from its sleep. Sherlock wasn't sure what to do with a child, he'd never handled one before, but he knew he couldn't leave it out in the cold. He picked it up awkwardly, holding it arms length as if it would harm him, he turned back into the flat, shutting the door behind him with his foot. Sherlock carried the child upstairs, making sure to keep it as far from him as he could. Some form of law stopped him for examining children so he had no background on them. He felt unsafe. When he got upstairs he sat the child on the sofa where he was relaxing before it showed up. Sherlock sat himself on the coffee table and stared at the child, his fingers pressed lightly together, his chin resting upon them. He studied the child, deducing its background, age, gender. Yet he could not determine why it was left here.

Sherlock stared at the child, he was used to people looking away and leaving him when he did this. The childs presence made him uncomfortable. Yet all the child did was stare back and smile, Sherlock smiled back before he had timed to catch himself. He felt himself drawn to the child. Thinking about how to handle this, he realised John would be more prepared in this field.

_John, I have a problem –SH_

John was sat in his office when he received the text, watching the clock ticking away. It had been a long day. Opening the text he laughed, expecting Sherlock to have blown something up again. He couldn't let Sherlock know he wouldn't be mad. He was the responsible one. John thought carefully about his reply, before typing it out at a much slower speed than Sherlocks.

_What is it now Sherlock, have you blown the microwave up again? –JW_

He laughed again, checking the time. One day Sherlock would stop blowing up the apartment, and he wouldn't have to work half as often as he did. He would actually be able to spend time with Sherlock instead of just seeing him on cases. His phone rang almost instantly, John never stopped being amazing at the speed in which Sherlock could use any gadget.

_No, No. Someone left a baby on our doorstep –SH_

Subtlety was never Sherlocks strong point. John expected something to be happening soon, everything had been to normal in his life, but a baby? He sat back in his chair shocked. They would have to go to the police instantly, he would have to go home, there was no trusting Sherlock with a child when he could barely look after himself.

_A...A What? –JW_

Sherlock was too busy with the child to pay attention to his phone. He could see something behind those glazed eyes that most children didn't have. He wished John would hurry up.


	2. Chapter 2

The baby giggled at Sherlock's hair falling in his eyes, the distraction needed to break the transfixing gaze and to check his phone. Sherlock thought to himself how typical John could be at times. It disappointed him.

_A baby, John. –SH_

John was getting worried, it never took Sherlock long to reply to a text. Relief flooded him when the text finally came through, Sherlock wasn't experimenting on the child. His instinct kicked in, automatically worrying about the child's wellbeing. John knew Sherlock wouldn't feel this way . still couldn't believe it was a baby, it had to be a mistake. It was probably a puppy or something like that, Sherlock wouldn't distinguish them. He's too...Sherlock.

_Like... a human baby? A tiny person?-JW_

He started to think about what he had been told so far and asked questions. Sherlock was awaiting a reply whilst staring at the child from a distance. John considered the possibilities that could have happened.

_Tell me you haven't left it outside in this weather Sherlock. –JW_

If the child was to stay in this weather, it's health would decrease rapidly; risking hospitalization. The child itself was problematic enough, they didn't need the questions at a hospital as to why two fully grown men, had a very ill baby, who didn't belong to them. Scotland yard would be having a ball with the they could get from it. John imagined them.

_Look at the couple! They decided to adopt!_

John saw the faces of everyone as they laughed at them. Sherlock ignoring it, not understanding, John hiding in the background, his face red. He blew these thoughts off and cautiously awaited a reply from Sherlock. He didn't feel much like talking, he just wanted to get back to the flat, yet he knew if he didn't keep Sherlock occupied, the child would be in danger. His foot tapped against the taxi floor as he watched London drive by, asking his self. What it would be like to have a normal, boring day to day life. He quickly dismissed this thought. John enjoyed this too much. Despite the constant arousal of danger and attempts on his life, he enjoyed it. He knew deep down he was meant to spend his life watching over that damn detective.

When Sherlock received the text from John, he felt slightly insulted. He may be inexperienced in this area, but he wasn't useless or stupid. Yet he had no clue what to do with the child now. He sat there watching it on the sofa, covering his ears from the screams it was producing. Sherlock had no idea how something so small could create such a loud, ear splitting noise. He tried laying it down, it didn't make any difference. It just screamed and screamed. He couldn't stand it. Sherlock stood abruptly and walked away from it, leaving the child screaming and unattended.

_I brought it in and left it on the sofa. It keeps crying. –SH_

How was he to know what to do with a child? It wasn't his job to look after mindless imbeciles who couldn't look after themselves. He made a double take on that thought realising that was _exactly _what his job entailed.

It shocked John, to realise quite how incompetent with this Sherlock was. He did however, justify it with the fact he knew Sherlock would have had no experience with this. He found it amusing actually, finding a weakness in the great detective, the man who knew everything. Understanding that until he arrived home he would have to direct Sherlock on what to do.

_Well pick it up! –JW_

A second thought occurred to him, a much smarter idea. Sherlock was debating about giving the child a spoon to play with, thinking it would please it's undeveloped brain.

_Go see Mrs. Hudson with it until I return home –JW_

Sherlock cursed at John for not realising she wasn't home, surely if she was the child would not be under his keeping. He peeked round the corner, the child seemed quieter, or maybe his hearing become accustomed to the ridiculous screaming. A text came through again, he was quick to answer it. Anything to distract his attention from that child who did not belong here.

_And do not, under any circumstance, perform any type of experiment on it Sherlock. –JW_

He did however applaud him for that statement. Although now he mentioned it, it would be interesting to see how an undeveloped mind would respond to a matured situation and such. He had no inclination to do so until his flatmate had mentioned it. It wasn't his child after all, he had no such intention to ever have one. So why should he feel guilty, or consider the ethical implications of an experiment to a child who would be too young to understand or remember it occurring in his life. Sherlock found himself absentmindedly replying to John, informing him of Mrs. Hudson's absence and location.

_Something about seeing a friend in Scotland. –SH_

He remembered her monotonously talking about her good old friend in Scotland who was ill, or her sister was ill. He wasn't listening, it wasn't important or even interesting what she had to say. He loved little old ladies, always so truthful and honest, yet they did go on a bit. The thought of experimenting with the child was increasingly growing stronger. He wondered what would happen if you applied certain chemicals to help with bone growth and such.

_Hurry, That is rather tempting –SH_

John's nerves set up at this point, he needed to get home before Sherlock got bored. He'd resorted to shooting the wall for fun, no one know what goes on the funny little mind of Sherlock Holmes. The poor child would be defenceless against any of his minds concoctions. There was no point arguing with him though, it never got John anywhere. He would just have to try and distract Sherlock from it. The useless information on Mrs. Hudson was no use to him, it only told him that Sherlock was alone with the child.

_Look, where she s doesn't matter, just... be sensible until I'm home ok? I'm in the taxi now –JW_

He couldn't help but laugh slightly, at Sherlock's ignorance and simplicity. Yet the thought of the child being alone with Sherlock worried him. Thoughts abandoned him, he simply told the cab driver to hurry up. It was an emergency. He had to keep Sherlocks mind at bay from the child, it was safer being ignored then being in the supervision of Sherlock.

_How I haven't lost my job with the amount of times I've had to run out to look after you is a wonder. –JW_

Sherlock shrugged the comment off, John didn't need that job, it drew his intelligence away from the important things, the cases, himself. That isn't what he meant surely, he didn't _need _ John's attention, he cursed himself for this thought. He didn't need anybody's attention.

_Maybe you should just quit, but i gather that isn't an option. –SH_

_Unlike you I need the money -JW_

The childs screams were building louder. His ears rang. He had to leave the room, he wasn't to leave the child alone in the flat, he knew that. Yet he could not bring himself to look at the child. He had to leave the room. It could be wise to tell John. Inform his useless mind that the child was safe.

_I'll seat myself in the kitchen aware from the child. –SH_

Johns reply came through as he made his way into the kitchen, accidentally bumping into the wall from lack of concentration on his body, too deeply engaged with his texts. When the text came through to John he was unaware that he was nearly home. The fact that Sherlock had left the child unattended first struck him as irresponsible and dangerous, until he reminded himself that the child being under Sherlocks supervision was probably more dangerous.

_No, do not... actually yeah. Distance yourself from it ( is it a girl or boy Sherlock?) Just keep your eye on it. –JW_

John realised he had no information about this child, other than it was alive and screaming and in their flat. Why was it in their flat? He thought to himself, of all the buildings on the streets of London why theirs? His phone went off repeatedly, Sherlock was listing everything he could about the child.

_Boy, around 4 months old –SH_

_English, brown hair, green eyes –SH_

_Particularly small for his age. –SH_

John hated it when Sherlock did this. Text him before he had time to read the message before. Mainly out of jealousy, the younger man could us these gadgets a speed much faster than he could.

_I do not need the background!- JW_

John looked up from the phone, noticing his surroundings that were quickly flashing by him at a speed. He was nearly home.

Sherlock simply laughed at Johns ignorance to detail. It was a certain charm he found intriguing in John despite finding it simple ignorance in others.

_You asked. –SH_

John was very nearly there, he took his wallet out and started to take the money out for the cabbie before replying to Sherlock.

_Look, just watch over it. I'm nearly there, and no. I did not ask for its background. I asked for its gender you prat. –JW_

John was smug in the fact only he could insult Sherlock at will and not be at the mercy of his mind as a comeback. The cab pulled up the side of the street just outside of the flat. John got out and paid the driver who drove off quicker than necessary; probably annoyed at Johns insistence of driving faster. He walked up the door, took a deep breath and opened the door. Preparing himself for the nights events.


End file.
